Furniture that Speaks to You

Parasha Terumah

In our Torah portion of this week we read about the instructions that G-d gives Moses for building the Tabernacle. The Tabernacle is like a portable synagogue where the Jewish people worshipped during their journey through the wilderness after they were freed from slavery in Egypt. This portable temple was basically a tent, which was enclosed by a courtyard. The tent was divided into two sections -- the Holy Section, and the “Holy of Holy” section. Inside the Holy of Holy section was The Ark which contained the Ten Commandments. Inside the Holy Section were a Menorah and a Table, upon which Challahs were placed every week. There was also an altar to burn incense. When G-d wanted to speak to Moses, G-d would invite him into the Holy of Holies. G-d’s voice would come from above the Ark.  

There was another altar outside the tent. This altar was in the courtyard. This is where ordinary people would come to offer their prayers. They might pray for forgiveness from G-d, ask G-d for something they needed, or thank G-d for some good fortune they received. There was also a large basin or bowl near this altar, where people could do ceremonial washing.

These then are the furnishings of the Tabernacle – the Ark, the Table, the Altar for incense, the Altar of the courtyard, and the Bowl for washing. Compared to a synagogue today, this biblical temple was pretty spare – there are no pictures, no stained glass windows, no memorial plaques, no flags, not even chairs! Of the five furnishings of the Tabernacle, three have a golden rim around them – the ark, the table and the altar for incense.

The Torah describes in great detail how these furnishings are to be made. The ark is one and one half cubits wide, two and a half cubits long, and one and a half cubits high. (1 cubit = 18 inches) Specific measurements were given as well for the incense altar and the challah table. The Altar for Incense is one cubit long, one cubit wide, and two cubits high. The Table is two cubits long, one cubit wide and one and one half cubits high.  The rabbis developed some interesting notions about these measurements. Does anyone see a pattern in the measurements? Hint: it has nothing to do with addition, subtraction, multiplication or division.

The rabbis noticed that that none of the measurements of the Ark were in whole numbers. They also noticed that all of the measurements of the Incense Altar were whole numbers, and the Table for the Challahs was a mixture of whole numbers and fractions.  By studying these measurements the Rabbis uncovered a hidden message for the Jewish people.

None of the dimensions of the Ark are in whole numbers. What does this teach us? The Ark contained the 10 Commandments, representing the spiritual heritage of the Jewish people. This teaches that when it comes to matters of the spirit, we can never feel complete. We are always growing. There is always room for improvement. There is always an opportunity for spiritual growth. We can always be more generous, more loving, more thoughtful, and more appreciative. We can always be more faithful, more forgiving, more accepting, and more humble.

The altar’s measurements are ALL whole numbers. The smoke from the Incense Altar represents our prayers ascending to G-d. We might come before G-d to pray feeling broken-hearted – through our prayers, G-d makes us whole again. We might come before G-d because we have done something wrong. We feel diminished and we pray for forgiveness. Through sincere prayer G-d forgives us and makes us whole again. So, the Altar’s measurements are in whole numbers.

The Table for the Challahs represents the physical world.  The dimensions of the surface of the Table ARE whole numbers. The Challah on it represents the physical world. This teaches that G-d made our world beautiful so that we can fully enjoy it. The Talmud states that G-d will be disappointed if we do not partake of the permissible physical pleasures of the world. The story is told of the famous Rabbi who wanted to visit the Alps. His students were surprised that their Rabbi would want to take precious time from study and teaching to travel to Switzerland just to see some mountains. He explained to them, “When I die and come before my Creator, and am asked, ‘Did you see my magnificent Alps’ I want to be able to answer in the affirmative!”

But the height of the Table for the Challah is NOT a whole number. This teaches us that we need to curb our appetites as well. Sure, it’s wonderful to enjoy a hot fudge Sundae or a deep dish pizza. But it is not wise to have five of either one at one sitting!  We need to be able to control our pleasure, and not have our pleasure control us. We need to feel blessed with what we have, and learn to limit our pursuit of material gains.

Each of these furnishings – the ark, the table, and the altar – had a gold rim around them. These represent three crowns we must wear – the crown of spirituality, the crown of enjoyment of our world, and the crown of moderation. If we wear these three crowns, we will have built a sanctuary within our hearts, where the spirit of G-d can truly dwell. Like the Children of Israel, we too can carry G-d with us wherever we go.

Shabbat Shalom

Famous Last Words -- Parasha Vayechi

Tonight I would like to talk about last words...

Jacob Blessing His Sons  François Maitre
Miniature, 1475 The Hague

In Act ll of Richard the Second, Shakespeare tells us that:

The tongues of dying men 
Enforce attention like deep harmony: 
Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain, 
For they breathe truth/ that breathe their words in pain. 

This week’s parasha recounts  the dying words of  our Father Jacob. As you recall  Jacob has brought his entire family to Egypt and for seventeen years has been re-united with his beloved son Joseph. The parasha opens with Jacob summoning his children to his bedside. With his last words Jacob rebukes some of his sons, prays for others, gives blessings to some, recalls memories, shares psychological insights, delivers warnings and imparts hope. After blessing his youngest son, Benjamin, Jacob speaks no more. The Torah tells us that he gathers his feet into his bed and is “gathered to his people” which is  the Bible’s way of telling us that  he has died. The Torah  also recounts the  death of Joseph  in this week’s parasha.   With his last words, Joseph reassures his family that G-d has not forgotten about them. He makes his family promise that when they return to the Promised Land, they will take his bones with them for burial in his home.

This week’s prophetic portion contains the dying words of another great man in the Bible, that of King David. David is of course a great poet-king. Tradition ascribes to King David the writing of the psalms. But David was also a warrior and a politician. In this death-bed scene, David is speaking to his son and his successor to the throne, Solomon. He instructs Solomon to be strong and to follow the teachings of Moses. Then King David turns to unfinished business. He instructs Solomon to deal harshly with two enemies of David so that they should not go unpunished for actions they took against David in the past. He also instructs Solomon to continue to support a man who befriended David in the past. Then King David dies.

Shakespeare writes that when time is short, and words are precious, as on a deathbed, they have a significance that beg attention. Indeed, Throughout history  people have been fascinated by the final words of famous people. Is it true that they carry deep meaning? Steve Jobs was reported to have confessed on his deathbed that his great wealth and fame have brought him little happiness. It was widely reported that with his final breaths, Jobs said, “The wealth I have won in my life I cannot bring with me. What I can bring is only the memories precipitated by love.” Only that was not true. He never said anything like that. According to Steve Job’s sister, his last words were, “Oh wow. Oh wow. Oh wow.”

When Groucho Marx was dying, he let out one last quip: “This is no way to live!”

When  Benjamin Franklin lay dying at the age of 84, his daughter told him to change position in bed so he could breathe more easily. Franklin’s last words were, “A dying man can do nothing easy.”

When Harriet Tubman was dying in 1913, she gathered her family around and they sang together. Her last words were, “Swing low, sweet chariot.”

Frank Sinatra died after saying, “I’m losing it.”

Marie Antoinette stepped on her executioner’s foot on her way to the guillotine. Her last words: “Pardonnez-moi, monsieur.”

Sir Winston Churchill’s last words were, “I’m bored with it all.”

Clearly, few people reach the eloquence of Jacob, of Joseph, or of David, in their final words. There is a way, however, that our final words can be more memorable, and more significant, than those of the above.  Judaism has the tradition of leaving an ethical will. This is a written document passed onto our survivors that articulates our values, memories and hopes for the future.  Jack Riemer and Nathaniel Stampfer wrote a book that collected almost 100 ethical wills from both famous and ordinary people. The book, which is in our synagogue library, also operates as a “how to” to write one’s own ethical will.

Writing an ethical will is not easy, as evidenced by our own experience here at CBS. A few years ago, a congregant did multi-session program for us in our Thursday morning study group. The goal was to help us each write an ethical will. Out of 20 or so people who started the process, to my knowledge, only one of us (not me) completed an ethical will. In the introduction to the book on Ethical Wills, the author contemplates as to why it is such a difficult task. He concludes 1) It is difficult for us to face our own mortality, to write something that is meant to be read after our death 2) To write an Ethical Will requires “convictions” – the ability to articulate our own values and the values we want to transmit to our children. Today, in an era where the highest value we may hold is the ability to choose for oneself, we find it difficult to tell our children how we think they should live their lives. We want them to be happy, and whatever way they might find happiness is fine with us. 3) To write an ethical will requires some knowledge of the Jewish tradition.  Many JEWS  are not confident in their understanding of Jewish tradition, and therefore they give up in their effort.

Still, one need not be steeped in Jewish thought, nor be a philosopher, to have one’s last words remembered. Here is an ethical will from a working class Jewish immigrant to the United States from Riga, Latvia:

My dear children:  I am writing this in the bank. This is what I want from you children: Evelyn, Bernice and Allen to be to one another – good sisters and brother. Daddy and I love the three of you very much, and we did our best raising you and gave you the best education we could afford. Be good to each other. Help one another if, “G-d forbid” in need. This is my wish.  Love all of you, Your Mother.

Although simple on the surface I am certain it had a profound effect on this woman’s children as it  comes straight from her heart. We should all think about what we want our last words to be. As Shakespeare says, our truest, most lasting words are often those we speak at the end.

Shabbat Shalom

Our Responsibility to One Another

It happens three or four times a year. I will be sitting in my office and I receive a call from a Chaplain at a hospital or a social worker in a nursing home. Upon hearing from the family that they are Jewish, the Chaplain or social worker contacts me on their behalf. “There is a Jewish patient who would like to see a Rabbi,” they say. Am I available for a visit? The last time I got such a request I visited with the family within a few hours.

As I entered the room I was greeted by a young man about 30 years of age who introduced himself as the patient’s  youngest son. The young man’s wife was at his side. Another son was standing at the foot of his father’s bed. The first son explained that his father had a stroke several days previously. Although he was initially expected to recover, things took a turn for the worse. They had made the decision to remove their father from the respirator that afternoon. As we talked, he told me his story. The parents had belonged to a synagogue when they were growing up, and both sons had celebrated their bar mitzvahs. After their bar mitzvahs the family gradually began to distance themselves from the organized Jewish community. They volunteered that their father, who according to them had an Orthodox upbringing, had not been to synagogue in many years. They themselves weren’t sure whether they wanted the presence of a rabbi, but the Chaplain was encouraging it, and they decided to allow her call me. They told me they were unsure their father would have wanted it. Perhaps also, they were embarrassed at not having a rabbi to call. I told them I thought it was a good decision. No matter how far people may stray from Judaism or the Jewish community, at times of major life moments – the birth of a child, a bar or bat mitzvah, a marriage, at time of a serious illness or impending death  -- people  seek the guidance of a rabbi. We talked some more about their father, their relationship to him and their ordeal over the past few days. We read some psalms together and spoke about their meaning. They asked about Heaven and whether his father would see his own parents after death. I recited the prayer that a rabbi recites over a critically ill person, in Hebrew and in English.

There is an enormous need for this type of outreach, not only to people who are in hospitals, but for those who are isolated in nursing homes or people who are shut in their own homes. Sixty five percent of Jews do not belong to a synagogue and have no one to call when they are in need of spiritual help.  I was aware that there are not enough rabbis to meet these needs. However, I learned how critical and urgent these needs are through my recent participation in the Jewish Community Chaplaincy Planning Steering Committee.  This committee just completed a major project of developing a model of chaplaincy services for the Chicago Jewish community that is sustainable and has broad based community support. We met four times at JFS of Skokie since September pf this year. Out of our work emerged a funding proposal to develop a Jewish Community Chaplaincy program over a two year period. The program will start small and gradually expand as additional sources of funding are identified.

Why bother? After all, what is the Jewish community’s responsibility to Jews who have essentially disconnected themselves from Judaism and who no longer support Jewish institutions? That obligation was established long ago, as our parasha of this week demonstrates. If you recall, Joseph has framed Benjamin by placing a silver goblet into his saddlebag. Joseph tells his brothers that, as punishment for the crime, Benjamin will become Joseph’s slave. Judah, Benjamin’s older half brother, steps forward and offers to become Joseph’s slave in Benjamin’s stead. Upon hearing Judah’s plea on his brother’s behalf, Joseph reveals to his brothers that he is – their brother, who they once sold into slavery.

There are many reasons put forth as to why Joseph went through this elaborate ruse before revealing himself to his brothers. Some commentators say that Joseph wants to find out if the brothers felt a responsibility toward one another. One could say this was sort of a test. If they did not feel responsible for one another’s welfare, they would not survive the move to Egypt that Joseph knew they had to make. In pleading for his brother and offering himself in his place, Judah passed the test. This responsibility that one Jew has toward another is called “arevut” in Hebrew.

This principle is illustrated by the following story. A Jewish immigrant arrives on New York’s Lower East Side and desperately seeks the company of other Jews. Not knowing whom, or where, they might be, he goes out into the street and shouts in Yiddish, “Man schlogt Yiddn! – They are beating the Jews!” Several people immediately surround him and demand to know where this is happening. The man replied, “In my village in Russia; I only wanted to know whether anyone here cared.”

Jews have always felt that obligation to one another.  In our Thursday morning study group we learned that the Jews of ancient Rome sent so much gold to support the Temple in Jerusalem that the Roman Senate passed a law forbidding the export of gold out of the Roman province. That sense of responsibility for one another, no matter where a Jew is in the world, has been passed down through the generations to the present day. So where there is a need – even for a Jew who has absented him or herself from the Jewish community – we make every effort to fill it. That is the Jewish way.

Shabbat Shalom 

The Many Meanings of Chanukah

Rabbi Mark Greenspan tells a story about Chanukah that he heard on a visit to Cuba two years ago. The Island of Cuba had, at its height,  a Jewish population of about 15,000 people, mostly in Havana. As a result of the Cuban revolution, 95% of the Jews left the island.  Although Jews were discriminated against, along with others who practiced a religion, Jewish practice was permitted. Because of the collapse of the Soviet Union, and its concomitant economic hardships, the Cuban government liberalized its policies and allowed members of the communist party to participate in religious associations. This led to a rejuvenation of Judaism in Cuba. In 1998, Adela Dworin, president of the Patronato, the largest synagogue in Havana, approached Fidel Castro at a public gathering and asked him why he hadn’t visited the synagogue. Fidel answered: "Because no one invited me!" Mrs. Dworin immediately extended an invitation to Castro to join in the Chanukah celebration with the Jewish community. Unfamiliar with the holiday, Fidel asked "What is Chanukah?"

Thinking quickly, Dworin said, "It is a celebration of the victory of a group of rebels who revolted against their government and brought about a revolution." Castro's eyes lit up - what could be more relevant to a revolutionary leader than Chanukah? That year Fidel Castro came to the synagogue and celebrated Chanukah with the Jewish community for the first time.

Fidel Castro was not the first person to ask the question, “What is Chanukah?” The question was asked over 1500 years ago by the rabbis of the Talmud. Strange, you think, that they would have to ask the question! It was there for the first time that we find the story about the miracle of the oil that lasted for eight nights. For the rabbis, the answer to the question, “What is Chanukah” was not that it commemorated the victory of a group of rebels who revolted against their government and brought about a revolution. For the rabbis Chanukah was about the power of G-d to act in history, to perform a miracle where the weaker party overcame the stronger one. The rabbis would emphasize that meaning in their choice for the prophetic reading for the Sabbath of Chanukah, which concludes, “Not by might, nor by power, but by My word, sayeth the Lord.” It was G-d’s will, not human agency that was responsible for the victory of the Maccabees.  One should put ones trust not in fellow human beings, but in G-d, to bring about salvation.

By the 19^th century, some Jews rebelled against that very message. These Jews concluded that it was ONLY through human agency that the Jewish people could escape the persecution of the diaspora and return to their ancestral homeland in what was then called “Palestine”.  If they believed in G-d at all – and most did not – they were not about to wait for a miracle to return them to Zion. They found a new meaning in the celebration of Chanukah. They looked to the Maccabees as a model for a Jew who was physically brave, and who bore arms. They found in the story of Chanukah a model of the Jew who, through courage , determination and commitment, was able to overcome the odds and establish independent state. Most important, after years of defeat and persecution, the early Zionists found a model of a Jew who was victorious. To this day, this is the meaning of Chanukah for most Israeli Jews.  As we know they continue to be called upon for sacrifice and service in order to survive in their hostile environment.

For American Jews, Chanukah has yet a different meaning. For us, Chanukah celebrates the freedom to practice ones religion without interference. Chanukah symbolizes our ability in the United States to celebrate a Jewish holiday alongside a Christian holiday as equals, in a society that tolerates and protects the practice of all religions. The Maccabees are models of those who fight against oppression of any kind. They are models of those who carry a light against the darkness of bigotry, of exclusion, of discrimination.  Or, as President Obama recently said, Chanukah, “At its heart …… is about the struggle for justice in the face of overwhelming obstacles.”

Another revolutionary hero is said to have drawn strength and inspiration from the story of Chanukah.  George Washington was encamped with his troops at Valley Forge in the winter of 1776. Everyone is cold. Frostbite is everywhere. A depressed George Washington goes for a walk through the camp, seeking inspiration. He finds a Jewish member of the Continental Army lighting his menorah. The soldier explains Chanukah to Washington, tells of Judah Maccabee and the fight for freedom, and George Washington finds his courage in the process enough to stand up when his boat crosses the Delaware. Later, our first President sends that soldier a silver menorah as a gift of appreciation, along with a letter which says, Judaism has a lot to offer the world. You should be proud to be a Jew!

I suppose you can say that Chanukah is like a Rorschach ink blot -- one can see many things in it. If you are Castro, you can relate to Chanukah as a story of revolution. If you are religiously oriented, you can understand it as the story of a miracle. If you are Israeli, Chanukah is an inspiration to continue the sacrifice in order to live as a free people in your land. If you are an American, Chanukah is the symbol of religious tolerance, pride and acceptance of the Jew into the fabric of American life. The meaning of Chanukah has evolved and changed over the years, to meet new historical circumstances and challenges. It will no doubt continue to take on new meanings in unforeseen ways in each age and in each retelling. 

Shabbat Shalom

Light One Candle -- Parasha Vayeshev

This coming Sunday morning, our congregation will host our fourth annual “Season of Twinning Event”. Members of our Beth Shalom community will join together with members of the local Muslim community to feed the hungry. We are part of an international effort to both feed the hungry and to build relationships between Jews and Muslims. Twinning events are being held in nearly 20 countries around the world – Los Angeles, New York, Paris, London, Sao Paulo Brazil, Malmo, Sweden, Tel Aviv, New York City, Los Angeles and Naperville – to name a few. The theme of this year’s event is “We Refuse to be Enemies”.

As in previous years, Zamir Hassan, the founder of “Muslims Against Hunger” will be joining us to help prepare sandwiches in our CBS kitchen. Zamir grew up in Pakistan.   He openly shares that as a youth he had negative views of the Jewish community although he never knew a Jewish person. When he finally met a Jewish person, he realized that, as he said, “people are people”. As he learned more about Judaism, he realized it had much in common with Islam, including the concept of community service, known as Tikkun Olam in Hebrew and “islah” in Islam.

Today, more than ever, with the rise of both Islamophobia and antisemitism worldwide, programs like these are needed to help break down stereotypes and combat fear. Zamir tells the story of distributing sandwiches along with other volunteers to the homeless in Boston. Upon hearing that he was Muslim, one of the recipient s of the sandwich asked if it was poisoned. Could you imagine how painful that experience must have been to Zamir, who is only trying to help? Zamir recognizes that extremist groups in the Muslim world are giving Islam a bad name. He says, “In each faith group there is always this fringe group which has a fringe agenda. The good people have to be louder.”  Unfortunately, it is far easier to grab headlines through acts of violence than it is through acts of kindness.

In our Torah portion for this week, Jacob sends his son Joseph on an errand. His brothers are tending the flocks at some distance from their home. Jacob instructs Joseph, “Go see the well being of your brothers and the well being of the flock and bring me back word.” This has puzzled commentators because earlier the Torah tells us that Joseph brings “bad reports” about his brothers, and they hate him for it. Joseph is always looking for things to criticize about his brothers’ behaviors – and report them back to his father. Why does Jacob send Joseph with this task of reporting back, when Joseph always exaggerates the negative and downplays the positive?

The commentators surmise that Jacob is trying to teach Joseph a lesson. Joseph is to report back on how “well” his brothers are doing. Instead of digging for gossip, or focusing on their negative traits, Joseph is to report on the positive things they are doing and whether they need help. The lesson for us is that rather than focusing on the unflattering information we can discover about people, we too, should look in to their well-being and whether we can help them.

Jacob is teaching Joseph that by understanding his brothers’ needs he might overcome his tendency to be overly critical of them. By being more empathic toward his brothers, Joseph might come to understand how his own behavior has contributed to the strain in their relationship. This is certainly a lesson for us as well in our interpersonal relationships. Instead of focusing upon what we don’t like about others, we should search out their positive qualities and try better to understand their needs and how we can help. We undoubtedly would hope that’s how others will treat us.

This also applies to our community’s relationship to the Muslim community. The news brings us “bad reports” about our Muslim brothers and sisters almost on a daily basis.  The reprehensible actions of a few tarnish the reputation of the many. It seems as if the evil is threatening to engulf the innocent as well as the guilty. Yet, what can we, as individuals, do to stop that process from occurring?

The story is told of a group of disciples of a Hassidic rabbi who were troubled by the prevalence of evil in the world. They requested the rabbi instruct them on how to drive out the forces of darkness. The Rebbe suggested that they take a broom and try sweeping the darkness out of the cellar. They did as their Rebbe said, but reported that the darkness remained. The Rebbe advised them to get a stick and try beating the darkness away. They did as the Rebbe said, but reported that the darkness was still there. The Rebbe then said to them, “My students, let each of you meet the challenge of darkness by lighting a candle!” The disciples descended to the cellar and each lit a candle. Behold, the darkness was dispelled.

There are those in our world who want to plunge us into darkness. We need to resist. We need to light candles to drive out the darkness. Through reaching out to the Muslim community, and through the Muslim community reaching out to us, we work on establishing a positive relationship with one another. Instead of relying on the “bad reports” that we hear about one another, we need to seek out those who are lighting candles against the darkness in both communities.  Our mutual participation in programs such as The” Season of Twinning” lights a candle against the darkness that threatens us and the world.

Let each of us meet the challenge of darkness by lighting a candle!

Shabbat Shalom

Terror in Paris and Jerusalem

There is a well-known story about the Israeli diplomat who was giving a news conference. A reporter shouts to him, “Mr. Ambassador-in a word, how are things”. “In a word?” he responds, “Good!”  Another reporter says to him, “Can you give us a bit more? -- How about two words?” “In two words”, he says, “Well in two words --- not good!”

As we all know by now, this has been a “not good” couple of weeks for the world. First there was the downing of a Russian plane in the Sinai, killing all 224 people aboard. Confirmed as a terrorist act, ISIS later claimed “credit” for the bombing. Then a week ago today Islamic terrorists attacked multiple sites in Paris, claiming as of today 130 lives. ISIS also claimed responsibility for this series of attacks in the City of Lights. Israel has been dealing with its own spate of terrorist attacks in recent months.  In the past six weeks, 19 people have been killed and 172 wounded -- 20 of them seriously.
 On the face of it this terror campaign appears to be spontaneous, but behind this violence there is incitement by the Palestinian leadership. Following the attempted assassination of a radical rabbi who advocated Jewish governance of the Mount, Israel briefly closed access to the site. Mahmood Abbas, President of the Palestinian Authority, called this action a “declaration of war”.  The spreading of false rumors by Palestinian government officials and the Palestinian media charging that Israel plans to change the status quo at the Temple Mount have inflamed people. Knife wielding murderers are praised as “heroes” by Palestinian authorities and Israelis are blamed for the violence.

Ironically, just this week France introduced a draft text to the United Nations proposing the stationing of international observers on the Temple Mount “to identify possible violations of the status quo”.  Apparently, despite Israeli assurances to the contrary, the French Government believes the Palestinian claims that the Israeli government has in fact changed the status quo, or intends to do so. Here we have a case of rewarding the inciters and blaming the victims.

In July of 2014, with the war with Gaza raging, Kenneth Roth, the Executive Director of Human Rights sent out a tweet. In doing so, he too confused the victims with the perpetrators. He tweeted, “Germans rally against anti-Semitism that flared in Europe in response to Israel’s conduct in Gaza war.’” In an article in the Atlantic Magazine Jeffery Goldberg took issue with that statement. “Anti-Semitism in Europe did not flare ‘in response to Israel’s conduct in Gaza’ or anywhere else…Jews were victims of hate crimes in Europe before the latest round of fighting in the Middle East. The massacre of Jewish children at a school in Toulouse, France and the fatal attack on the Jewish museum in Brussels are two examples…Anti-Semitic violence and invective are not responses to events in the Middle East…This is for the simple reason that Jews do not cause anti-Semitism. It is a universal and immutable rule that targets of prejudice are not the cause of prejudice…Black people do not cause racism, nor gay people homophobia…it is a manifestation of irrational hatred. Its proponents justify their anti-Semitism by pointing to the behavior of their targets, but ,” concludes Golberg, “This does not mean that major figures in the world of human rights advocacy should accept these pathetic excuses as legitimate.”

David Harris of the American Jewish Committee writes that the terror against France and against Israel has at least one thing in common.  The terrorists, who attacked Paris last week, and last January, detest Western values – and Paris --- with its museums, restaurants, and rich cultural and intellectual life -- is a symbol of that. It is the same reason Al Qaida chose the World Trade Center to attack twice – once in 1994 and once in 2001. The Twin Towers at the World Trade Center were symbols of the power and wealth of the United States. ISIS detests Western democracy, with its openness, its tolerance, its freedom and its secularism. With Israel it is much the same. At its root, Radical Islam does not hate Israel because of how Israelis treat the Palestinians – they hate Israel because Israel exists. They are not interested in sharing the land --they are interested in ruling the land. Just as Paris is a symbol of Western civilization, so is Israel. It is intolerable for Radical Islam to see an outpost of Western civilization in the Middle East.

Rabbi Mitchell Wohlberg points to this week’s Torah portion as an example of how victims often get blamed.  He notes that although Jacob behaves honestly with his Uncle Lavan, Lavan repeatedly cheats and deceives him. Jacob has worked seven years for Lavan in order to marry Rachel, yet Lavan substitutes the older daughter Leah for her on the wedding night. When Jacob complains, Lavan tells him that the custom of the land is to marry the older off before the younger. Like Lavan could not have told him this up front?  As Rabbi Wohlberg writes, “And yet, no less than three times, Lavan accuses Yaakov of theft: “You have stolen my heart, you have stolen from me and you have stolen my goods.”  Lavan tells Yaakov, “You have taken my daughters captive, you have denied my children and grandchildren and you have deprived me of the opportunity to send you off with gladness and mirth.”  Of course, Yaakov had never done any of this.  It was Lavan who had done all this to Yaakov.  It was Lavan who had switched Rochail for Leah … it was Lavan who deprived Yaakov of his fair wages … it was Lavan who lied, cheated and swindled Yaakov.  But it was Lavan who managed to blame it all on the victim.”

These are scary and confusing times, indeed.  We must be clear in our thinking and resolute in our actions. We must remember that the thousands and thousands of Syrian refugees are not the perpetrators of violence; they are the victims of violence. French involvement in the war against ISIS does not make them the perpetrators of violence.  They are part of a force fighting against those who want to take hard won freedoms away. We must continue to affirm and insist upon and support Israel’s right to exist as a state.  Israel is not perpetrating a wrong on the Palestinians by being there. Israel is exercising a right to return as a free people to the ancestral lands of the Jewish people. In turn, it is Israel and her people that are being victimized by a terror campaign.  Israel must be allowed defend herself vigorously against those who seek to destroy her. No less than the future of the Jewish people depends on that.

Shabbat Shalom

For Veterans Day : A Forgotten Story

This evening, in honor of Veterans Day which we observed last Wednesday, I am going to tell you a little known and long forgotten story of courage. The courage that I am going to tell you about was not ONLY about courage on the battlefield.  It is also about the courage to overcome bigotry and discrimination. It is about the courage to hold a vision of America as a country where all people, no matter their race, religion or country of origin, could live in freedom and equality. It is a vision of the United States as a country free of prejudice, hatred, and discrimination. It is a vision of America that truly honors the men and women of our armed forces who serve our country so bravely.

Of all of the battles in United States history, the battle for Iwo Jima during World War ll is one of the most famous. Iwo Jima is a volcanic island only 650 miles from Tokyo. It lay midway between Japan and the American bomber bases in the Marianas, an archipelago in the western North Pacific. It was crucial for Japan to maintain control of Iwo Jima to prevent a United States invasion of mainland Japan. It was equally important for US forces to evict the Japanese from this island fortress and use its air fields as staging grounds for bombing Japan.

Twenty two thousand Japanese soldiers defended Iwo Jima. These soldiers were burrowed in underground fortresses. There were no front lines in Iwo Jima. American soldiers fought above ground, and Japanese soldiers fought from underneath them. American soldiers rarely caught a glimpse of the men they were fighting. One hundred and ten thousand Marines, among them approximately 1500 Jewish marines, were transported on 880 ships to invade the island.

The Japanese were given the order to fight to the death. There was to be no surrender. In 36 days of fighting, 6,825 Americans were killed and 19,000 wounded. Virtually all 22,000 Japanese soldiers were killed.

When the fighting was over, Division Chaplain Warren Cuthriell, a Protestant minister, asked Rabbi Roland Gittelsohn, a Marine chaplain, to deliver a memorial sermon at a joint religious ceremony dedicating the Marine cemetery. Rabbi Gittelsohn had been in the thick of the fighting, ministering to Marines of all faiths during the battle. He was awarded three combat ribbons for his service under fire. Yet, the majority of Protestant chaplains objected to Rabbi Gittelsohn’s preaching over predominantly Christian graves. Catholic chaplains opposed any form of combined worship, basing their opposition on Church doctrine.

To his credit, Chaplain Cuthriell refused to change his order, but Rabbi Gittelsohn convinced him that it would be better to have three separate services. Seventy soldiers attended Rabbi Gittlesohn’s service, where he delivered the sermon that he had originally prepared for the joint worship. The following is an excerpt from that sermon:

Here lie men who loved America because their ancestors’ generations ago helped in her founding, and other men who loved her with equal passion because they themselves or their own fathers escaped from oppression to her blessed shores.  Here lie officers and men, Negroes and whites, rich men and poor . . . together.  Here are Protestants, Catholics, and Jews together.  Here no man prefers another because of his faith or despises him because of his color.  Here there are no quotas of how many from each group are admitted or allowed.  Among these men, there is no discrimination. No prejudices.  No hatred. Theirs is the highest and purest democracy . . .

Whosoever of us lifts his hand in hate against a brother, or who thinks himself superior to those who happen to be in the minority, makes of this ceremony and the bloody sacrifice it commemorates, an empty, hollow mockery.  To this, then, as our solemn duty, sacred duty, do we the living now dedicate ourselves:  to the right of Protestants, Catholics, and Jews, of white men and Negroes alike, to enjoy the democracy for which all of them have here paid the price . . .

We here solemnly swear that this shall not be in vain.  Out of this and from the suffering and sorrow of those who mourn this will come, we promise, the birth of a new freedom for the sons of men everywhere. “

Although few people heard the sermon that day, a number of Christian chaplains did attend in protest of the cancellation of the joint worship.  A Protestant chaplain who heard Rabbi Gittlelsohn borrowed a copy of the sermon. He made more copies and circulated them among thousands of soldiers. Some sent it home in letters to their family. The story was picked up by Armed Forces Radio and broadcast throughout the world. Parts of the sermon were published in Time Magazine. Shortly before his death in 1995, Rabbi Gittelsohn read from the sermon at the 50^th anniversary of the dedication of the Iwo Jima Memorial in Washington DC. He said, “I have often wondered if anyone would ever have heard of my Iwo Jima sermon if not for the bigoted attempt to ban it.”  

 Each year on Veterans Day, November 11^th, we honor living veterans and the memory of veterans past, especially those we know and love.

We acknowledge the horrific risk they willingly took and the appalling sacrifices they made for the sake of others, not least ourselves.

We also honor the millions of veterans who never saw combat but who confronted its real possibility in their lives, and the 1.2 million Americans now on active duty -- including more than 10,000 Jews serving in our armed forces today.

We remember the families and loved ones, worried at home while their veterans are off at war. 

Let us never forget the sacrifices made by our men and women in the armed forces, past and present, who serve so that we may live in freedom.

To that let us say to that: AMEN!